Our Darkest Desire
by Offcentercompass
Summary: SwanQueen story based in AU - Little Mermaid before quickly diverging into something nowhere near as sweet and fluffy! Rated Mature - please be aware.
1. Mermaid Life

Hi, New story - bit different to Finding Another Way - this is set from Emma's POV.

Will be deep and dark and SwanQueen, set in AU (loosely Little Mermaid).

Mature rating for later chapters, won't be updated anywhere as near as quickly as my last story - sorry but that was intense and I don't ever want to put myself under that kind of pressure again!

Hope you all enjoy - please leave feedback if you feel the need and enjoy it! Thanks.

* * *

I can look back and remember the night that changed my life forever. It had seemed no different to any other with the water glowing with the rays of the setting sun. The wind had begun to pick up and the waves buffeted my breasts and shoulders that were above the waterline. It was beautiful to watch the cobalt blue water, so inviting, so pure and clean. To watch the bright blue change, slowly darken, reflecting gold and then bronze as the sun's rays sunk lower in the sky, disappearing into the sea at the horizon. It seemed to set the water on fire, yet it remained cool and wet, hugging my body and giving it the support to float on the surface.

As the sun finally disappeared beyond sight the last light of the day began to dwindle, the water turned slate grey and the wind blew harder making the waves bigger, taller. They were filled with energy that wanted to smash themselves open and be released into the rapidly cooling night. It was an open stretch of ocean and they would travel far, growing in size and energy before meeting a shore they could hungrily attack. I could feel the weight of cloud and expectation of a storm laying on the surface of the ocean and pressing on me. It seemed that as the sun had set, so it had signalled the change in weather.

I sighed deeply and then dove deep into the water, the water pushing my long blonde hair streaming behind me, my eyes open and alert, the water like a hand running over my back, rushing into every crease of my body. Pushing at my breasts and caressing over my nipples, my body a pale blur I kicked my tail and descending into the darker depths where my world waited for me.

My people would talk about that storm for a long time. It polluted our world as many ships were wrecked and emptied their full bellies into the ocean that night. Many things that I now know were valued higher than the men's lives that were transporting them came to lay at rest on the floor of my home. Chests full of gold, jewels, stones that would glitter in the light were now buried beneath hundreds of feet of ocean never to see the light of day or glitter ever again.

Metal, wood, rope, all rained into my world, ruined sails, masts, metal riveted to metal torn apart by nothing more than nature's fury. The wind and rain and water wiped up into a maelstrom to smash the lives and achievements of men apart. Things we had no need of and no idea how to use came filtering down, some inspired inspection, some were ignored, and most were left where they fell. Even the dead, drowned, sightless bodies. Some broken, some in a state of undress where the wind and water had not only taken their lives but their clothing and broken their bodies to show man was nothing compared to the power held in nature around them.

* * *

When I was a young girl I had been ordered to stay away from the surface for fear of being seen and observed. My playful, sometimes boisterous nature and tendency to stray from imposed boundaries meant I was watched closely by my elders, trying to ensure I obeyed this simple command, but the surface was beautiful and called to my soul. I didn't fear the land folk like some of my kind did, they were a glorious distraction from my mundane life. I would visit as often as I could, learning to hide and taking great pleasure in seeing uninhibited human life enacted in front of me.

Whether I was naïve or just full of youthful cockiness, I became fascinated with the land, the shore and the people above us. If I was able to slip away I would swim hard and fast, making my heart beat quicken, smiling at the feeling of being so free, cutting through the water and breaking the surface and loving the feel of the wind buffeting me. If I knew I could slip away for a prolonged time I would find a rocky outcropping and hide away behind it, and my eyes would dart round taking in the sights and sounds as the humans rushed on with their lives. My long hair would dry in the sun, looking like spun gold as the light reflected from it and I always marvelled at how soft it became as it dried. I often felt my cheeks get tight, they would glow from the sun and the wind caressing me. I could feel how they would get warm and if I caught a reflection in the water I'd look rosy rather than the paleness I was used to looking back at me. I would smile as children rushed into the water and screamed from the cold, splashing each other, their parents laughing at the behaviour before rushing in and splashing them with as much childish vigour as the youngsters themselves displayed.

I would watch men sail small boats, their muscles straining as they pulled on ropes and pulleys to change the angle of the sail, moved the rudder and showed balance as the waves would lap round the boat and they would sway with the motion of the sea, getting wind swept and salt splashed and soaking up the sun with their browning bodies, the strength of their arms but particularly their legs fascinated me.

I loved watching the humans, and as I grew up the thrill of it never diminished, even as I was allowed more freedom by my father, who I suspect had grown tired of trying to watch me and trying to change me. He gave told me the boundaries had been relinquished because of my age, that I was fast becoming an adult and with a resigned sigh he watched me swim away with a huge smile on my pale features.

As I had been allowed to visit the surface at night I took advantage of the opportunity often. My previous visits hadn't been about the thrill of disobeying and breaking the rules, it was the joy of watching and wishing to be part of a life above the water.

Although I did know I liked pushing my boundaries and my heart had always beat a little faster as I swam away from our colony, knowing I was being naughty and the fear of being caught and punished by the elders would send a shiver down my back if I thought too long about it. But that wasn't why I went to the surface. There were plenty of places below the water I wasn't allowed to go, and they held no interest for me, they were dark and lifeless, the complete opposite to the shore.

But even when I became fully grown it was always forbidden to break the surface during the night if there were storms, the sea a violet and uncaged monster, devouring anything in its path and my father was petrified that thing could be me. These were the rules of my culture. We were ruled by a strict set of laws that were designed to keep us safe, an elected elder governed us with counsel from other elders and although we were spread out over a vast distance across the ocean floor we were a close community. I knew every merperson, old and young and although I was a free and independent spirit who enjoyed being alone I would have been welcomed into any group. I had always enjoyed the freedom allowed by our community and pushed the laws and boundaries administered by the elders. I went to the surface to see the sun set often, went above the surface during the day, even venturing near the coast to see the humans and their lives. No one followed me or checked on me as I was now a teenager and they had young merlings to oversee, I was expected to be responsible and follow the authoritative examples laid down.

Things might have been different had I a mother to talk to, to bond with. My mother who had carried me around in her mouth when I was very small and still developing, had lovingly nurtured me for my first few years, but had been savaged by a shark and died from her injuries in my father's arms when I was 3 years old. I might have grown understanding and honouring our traditions, respecting the rules, but I had no mother and far too much solitary time to think.

My father, an elder on the council still stops and thinks about her every day, telling me their love was true and he misses her immensely. I wish I could remember her, but I have grown up with his love but no guidance on how to behave as a merwoman. Father is very rigid in his views and would have bonded better with a son, he loves me but has not ability to show it like a mother would do. I have lost count of the number of times he sit thoughtfully and would open his mouth to begin saying something, "Emma…" and then trail off shaking his head, deciding better to leave it unsaid.

As it is he leaves me to my own devices, too busy with his council duties and trying to find willing women to watch me and ensure I was brought up to behave properly and appropriately as a merwoman. And I have learned much, none of it taught to me by the poor women father found to child sit me. What I learned I found out by watching interactions, seeing the expectations of our culture. One where the mermen expect very little from their women except to bear children and to be there for them, to listen to them, to stand by their side and nod in agreement.

And my father, who I know is a good man and tried his best, fails to understand my youthful exuberance. As long as I come home every night when he expects me then he would often be too distracted by his own day and his own responsibilities to ask too many questions of me and about how I had spent my time.

* * *

The night of the storm there was a council meeting, which meant that I was left alone. The men were busy, and the women folk were expected to oversee the younglings. Some without children either met socially in smaller groups or made their own entertainment, I had always enjoyed being solitary and took my opportunity as everyone else was occupied.

It was oppressively dark, the water had a heavy feeling to it. Able to see in the dark, our eyes had accustomed to living in the depths, there was still a feel to the gloom which indicated unrest within the body of water and I felt a chill pass through me as I swam up through the troubled turbulence. Clouds had obscured and obliterated the moon so no light penetrated the surface of the water.

When I broke the frenzied surface the water looked black, like tar, so different from the inviting blue it had been earlier in the day. Although I was built to live in the water and loved it, tonight it filled me with dread. It seemed alive and hungry and ready to pounce on anyone who made a mistake, human, merperson it didn't matter to the water. The young girl in me wanted to turn tail and flea back into the deep water, my tail pulsing as fast as if I was outrunning a shark. The other part of me, the rebellious and brave part set out to the nearest land to explore the night and face the storm. The rain beat on my head, I was already wet but the ferocity of it stung my bare shoulders. Breaking the surface meant I also had to fight the waves so I stayed beneath the water until I came close to the coastline.

As I swam I realised I'd come very close to the hull of a ship. I glided past it, hardly seeing it in the gloom, registering it as it pushed a huge volume of water out of the way as it cut through the waves. I thought they must be mad trying to navigate through the sea while the weather was like this. I decided to follow them and surfaced to take a closer look.

It was a large wooden vessel, being battered by the wind and rain, yet still there was a resilient young man standing at the bow and defying the weather, arms open, wet through but still with a grin on his tanned and youthful face. His white shirt was stuck to his chest and arms, it had gone see through because of how wet it was and you could see the defined muscles he had. His black hair would have been mated to his head if the wind had not been so strong and whipped it about his face. I felt his power, defiance and admired his courage and beauty all at once.

Just then the waves pitched and the ship plunged into a wall of water. The man was knocked from his feet and was on his knees on the deck. I thought our eyes meet for a brief moment before I slunk back under the surface. I was swimming away, after nearly being spotted when I heard the splash and shouts of urgency coming from the ship. I knew immediately that someone had entered the water and would only be alive for a short while before the water pounded the life from them and left them behind for the fish to feed on.

I turned and watched as men rushed to the side of the ship, the dark haired man one of them. So it hadn't been him that had fallen into the water, I felt mild relief at that. He was attractive and my heart had skipped in admiration when looking at him. I didn't want to watch anyone die, but my heart would have been sad if it had been him in the water and battling against the water. I might even have intervened in the spur of the moment, my emotions taking over as my impulsive and childish side reared up despite my best efforts to claim I was fast becoming an adult.

In his hands he had a rope and quickly tied it round his waist, his hands strong and sure as he tied the knot that his life would depend on. So gracefully for a human he turned and dived into the water, he seemed to hang in the air, his body knifing into the water not far from me, the rope playing out behind him and being held by the men remaining on the ship.

I watched his dedication to his friend or shipmate, and his desire to save the man ignoring his own fear. I was in awe of his confidence in his ability. I found an inner part of myself pulled to the man, to the humans more than I had ever been before. I watched fascinated as the men worked together to save the fallen one, taking on nature and the ocean and winning.

As I stared at the ship, at the men I realised that humans pushed themselves to their limits, bettering themselves, forever striving to go further, do more. And I felt that desire mirrored in my soul. I was not happy and content to just accept the life I was given, I wanted more, I wanted to push my boundaries and myself and be better too.

My current life was dictated to me, I was expected to take a mate, to follow the traditional way of our people, to breed and further our race. And as a woman there were few opportunities left to explore and to be different. I sighed as the realisation and weight of what being an adult meant in my culture, my world.

I quickly and quietly swam away, more conflicted than ever before.


	2. The Sea-Witch

Hi, Hope everyone is well.

Another update, of a story you all know well. Next chapter will begin to deviate from the standard story.

Things will be in smaller bites for a little while.

Enjoy!

* * *

I'd made my decision. I wanted to leave my world, it didn't fulfil me, I felt I had explored vast parts of it and never found my place. I felt I didn't fit, and the water failed to have the pull or attraction as the land did. The land pulled at my heart, whispered in the back of my mind and although I didn't want to hurt my father I wanted to see what lay beyond our shores, wanted to experience a different life. I always felt chained to the water and my rebellious spirit wanted more. If it could be done then I knew who to seek out, there had always been rumours of the sea witch who could do anything you wanted for a price. I set about searching for her to see whether she could transform me into a human. It turned out she really wasn't that hard to find.

In her deep, dark cave she cryptically looked me up and down. An evil looking smile spread her features, which once must have been pretty.

"I think we can accommodate you, Dear." she said, and then busied herself mixing potions together.

Her voice was sickly sweet as she said, "I'm sorry about your mother, she was a great woman, had remarkable strength and determination."

Her comments startled me, I must have visibly jumped.

She continued, "With the exception of being blonde, you do so look like her, do you miss her?"

I was surprised by the revelation she knew my mother, more so that she seemed to admire her.

"Y-Yes" I stuttered a little "Did you know her well?" My voice faltered, I hadn't expected any kindness from this woman, not even idle chat about my family, let alone a keen insight to my life without a mother.

"We crossed paths" the sea witch admitted, "I expect losing her really damaged your father, they were so in love, I would even say it was True Love." She smiled, but the action didn't reach her eyes. Eyes that were dark and devious looking, they held no warmth. I looked at the pointed teeth and remembered the stories, that this woman was dangerous. Suppressing a shiver from the chill that ran down my back I just smiled politely back at her.

"Your Mother was always strong, she knew what she wanted and then went after it with single-mindedness. That was how she won your Father's heart. And I'm sure she'd love to see you follow your heart, follow your instinct that your life lies on the shore. She'd be proud to see you become an adult, to fulfil your dreams and desires." Again the smile, the one I couldn't trust.

"Such a shame, she was so beautiful to die so young. But you will honour her memory, I'm sure you have never forgotten her, or stopped missing her."

I just nodded. I didn't want to give this woman, if she could be called that, any more information. There was a sense within me that any information given could be turned and used against me within a moment's notice.

The sea witch continued, "Now My Dear, all magic comes with a price, as I'm sure you are aware. Your cost will be quite high, as this is a complex change. But we will get to that. Now tell me, are you are enamoured with just the land, or with a person?"

I thought of the dark haired man, his toned figure, and our eyes locking for a fraction of a second. He was the catalyst for this, and the harpy in her cavern seemed to have picked up on my hesitation about what my attraction to him was. The sea witch nodded and a pleased smile spread over her features. She had not needed me to vocalise anything, it was clear from the look in my young and naive eyes, the expression I wore on my face that the older woman had at least in part guessed correctly.

A tongue snaked out and licked the smirking dark red lips, while I berated myself for my stupidity. I wasn't even sure of my own feelings for the man, certainly he was attractive and I'd like to see him again to see whether his confidence and defiance were part of his nature and see how it had shaped his life. He intrigued me, but this woman now had knowledge because I hadn't prepared myself for this visit, I hadn't schooled my features and I didn't know the contents of my own heart.

I watched the other woman, who seemed to see into my soul with her dark eyes. She moved with grace and a sensuality that didn't seem to fit her appearance. She exuded confidence, moved quickly and fluidly and I was finding myself lulled into a daze in her presence. Before I could sink any further into it I shook my young and stupid head and cleared it, focusing on the older woman and her words.

I began to feel regret at coming here, I was much younger than this woman and had no experience of dealing or bartering. This woman was dangerous and gaining insight into me, she was easily able to manipulate me and seemed to turn the conversation wherever she wanted it to go. I realised she had a vast experience dealing with people, with potions and from the look in her eyes she dealt with darkness and pain and suffering too. I had only my limited experiences, my life was honest and I had never been in any situation like this before. I was out of my depth with her and I could only pray she took pity on me and that my foolishness did not cost me too much.

As I replayed the conversation we had engaged in her words from before struck me, I was turning them over in my head when I realised she had phrased things very carefully. I needed to tread carefully with her, to understand fully what I was agreeing to.

"You will accommodate me?" I queried with her.

"Yes."

I tried not to smile, to remain with a neutral expression gracing my features. She could at least do what I wanted, now it was a case of working out the details.

She continued, "As I said earlier, all things come at a price My Dear" she replied. "I will want something from you for the transformation, it is very complex magic and requires valuable ingredients for the potion. Are you prepared to bear the cost?"

I thought before I came to this cavern that I was prepared to do anything to feel free, to become human and to be on the land, I would turn my back on my kind, my world, all that I knew. Now the behaviour of the harpy before me did cause me to pause and to reconsider everything I would be giving up.

Was the connection to the land so intense and strong? Could I live without my father, he loved me, but it was a distant kind of love. I saw a memory of the family playing on the shore, the contact the human's shared, the laughter, the soft touches and the hugs and knew I had none of that in my world. I saw the passion and fire burning in the dark haired man's eyes, something I had never seen in any merperson. I wanted that, the physical contact, the ability to laugh, the passion that was missing from my life.

"What is it you want from me?" I asked, the impulsiveness I was feeling tempered by a growing feeling of dread about what she may want in return. I had not completely lost control of the thought process and in the back of my mind I could hear the rumours about the sea witch beginning to voice themselves. "She can't be trusted", "She will only help if it helps herself", "No good comes from dark magic" all whispered to me as I waited for her to name her price.

"Your voice" was what she said after what seemed like an eternity in the darkness if her cave. After a pause she added, "I see your desire. To experience the passion and the love the human's exhibit. So to close the deal I will returned your voice to you when you marry – but be aware, the spell will only last for 6 complete turns of the moon – if you have not married then I will keep your voice forever."

I didn't see how this was a huge sacrifice, I could communicate much with a look or a touch. To not speak was a difficulty, but I had expected something much more unpleasant from this woman opposite me. It didn't seem to be an unreasonable offer and I tentatively nodded my acceptance.

"Good" Suddenly the harpy was all business, grasping my shoulder and pulling me into her lair towards her bench with potions laid out on it. She thrust one into my hand and smiled, one that did make her eyes dance. I felt the apprehension settle in my stomach, my breathing became shallow watching the unrestrained glee on the face and a chill crept up my back and spread out along the skin of my arms.

"Will it hurt?" I breathed out and she laughed a little, setting my teeth on edge and making me want to take a step back from her. She still grasped my arm and I refused to give into the fear that was trying to work its way out of my stomach and up my throat. I would not step back and allow this woman to see my indecision.

"Only until you pass out, Dear. It will happen quickly from that point. Now drink up."

"Ok." And I nodded, taking the potion. It tasted foul as it ran down my throat, burning into me and I had to fight the desire to vomit it back up, whether it was from the nerves I was struggling with or maybe that was a natural reaction to the brew I really didn't know.

The vial the potion had been in was removed from my hand, a hand that was going numb. I also couldn't feel my tail, I tried to bring my hand up to touch my face, brush over my lips, but I had no control over myself at all. I sunk into a fallen position, the water in the cavern was warm but suddenly I was cold, and there was a pain building in my stomach and radiating both up into my chest and down through my tail. I couldn't see as darkness was clouding my vision and the pain went from a throbbing to become a sharp stabbing, it felt like my tail was being torn apart and I struggled to breathe from the pain.

As the darkness settled on me I could hear the cackling of laughter, it sounded maniacal and tinted with madness. Things had gone too far to change them now, but I felt my body shudder from the sound, before I sunk under the waves of darkness crashing into me.

The Sea-Witch laughed heartily, she knew well what happened to the people found along the shore, the ones without family and often without the ability to walk or speak. If Emma could find a way to find love and marry from that situation, she truly was a remarkable person, because the older woman didn't think it was possible. True Love didn't happen often and without a voice that is what it would take in that Kingdom. The world above her was hard, harsh and unforgiving and Emma would find out the hard way, struggling to fit in, let alone stand out. With a wicked grin she turned away and settled into the darkness of her world, waiting for the next foolish person to come to her needing something unattainable.


	3. After the Transformation

Hi My Followers, you have jumped on this band wagon quickly!

I hope everyone is well, on with the show!

* * *

When I was found on the beach, too weak to use my new legs and unable to speak, I was taken to the castle. My skin felt like it was on fire, the sand I had laid on was rough, the wind had blown it so it stuck to me and every move I made was then abrasive to the tender new skin on my legs.

My lungs burned from trying to breath, they felt like heavy bags in my chest and with each inhalation I wanted to cry angry tears. The witch had assured me the transformation wouldn't kill me, but I now realised the fine line between life and death and the sheer amount of pain the human body could tolerate. I didn't feel very alive and yet my broken body refused to give up so each inhalation it kept making while trying to breathe burnt, scorching fire inside of me.

My new limbs were trying to function but felt heavy, the new muscles screamed with each movement I made, so I just lay as still as possible on the damp sand moaning silently without a voice, in agony and unable to ask for any help or scream in pain and frustration as I desperately wanted.

I could see my useless legs and the new skin was pink and tender and the sun beating on them was hot and hurting. My head throbbed and my throat and lips were dry from the sun and lack of water they were usually submerged in.

Eventually someone did come and although they were a young woman and unable to bear my weight she called out and sent for help, staying with me, holding my hand and talking soothingly to me. Soon three men who were dressed in similar clothes surrounded me and I noticed they weren't shocked at finding a naked woman on the sand, they just wrapped me in a blanket and hauled me to me feet. They were forced to take my whole weight as I immediately sunk back to the ground when they released their strong hold on me. I was completely useless, just a bag of skin and bone who was unable to stand unaided. Tears were streaming down my face from the pain, and I was frustrated that I couldn't answer any of their questions. In thier gruff way they had been trying to help me, and I wished I could vocalise something, anything to help them help me.

I felt hurt and broken and this was nowhere near what I had imagined, my own body felt like it was betraying me and refused to do as I commanded it and get up. I had envisioned walking from the ocean, clothed and able to explore immediately. I realised how naïve I had been, how foolish and short sighted I was.

As I had lain on the beach I had looked at the cliff face, towering high above me was a castle, a large grey stone structure, looking out over the ocean. It was formidable and seemed to be enormous, contrasting with the white of the cliff face. The blue sky behind it was a beautiful shade, white clouds seemed to be sitting at intervals as if delicately placed and as I looked out on the water the sun glinted and glittered against the surface. It would be a wonderful sight if I could see clearly from my eyes, but instead they kept blurring from tears.

Pain like this, it was foreign to me, I had never been hurt like this and it made me feel sick and dizzy. I laid my head back on the sand and tried not to move. Biting my lip I tasted the salt, either from the water or my tears I was unsure, and the tang was sharp and where before I found it natural and part of my environment, now it was unpleasant. The potion had obviously change huge parts of me, given me lungs, legs, I had no scales to protect myself and my skin was delicate. The water that used to envelop me and felt like a warm and snug glove had never bothered me before. Now it lapped at my bare feet, cold and wet and it caused me to shiver unexpectedly. The shaking action travelled through my body, causing more pain, the hurt hammered through my body engulfing all of me and made my head throb. My stomach was thankfully empty because it felt unsettled and kept flipping and if there had been food inside it then I had no doubt I'd have been sick, causing more problems to my tormented and misery ridden body.

As I was half dragged and half carried from the beach I realised I was being taken to the castle. I hadn't the strength to hold my head up and watch where we were going, I was blindly taken, unable to help the men carrying my weight. I put up no fight, no resistance and allowed them to guide me where they wanted. We entered through a lowly wooden door at the rear and then proceeded through corridors and into the belly of the stone structure. Eventually I was laid down on a cold stone floor, the blanket removed from me so I silently whimpered at the cold air hitting me and the shame at being seen naked again. I had been placed in front of a man and I raised my head to look at him as he was appraising my figure. I was glad the spell hadn't changed my physic, I still had defined muscles on my arms and stomach, my blonde hair was still long and flowing.

I knew from watching the humans I was desirable, I was slim and toned and looked similar to many of the females I had seen playing on the shore line, men chasing them, laughing with them and often kissing them. The women I had observed often wore their hair long, and mine was cascading down my back in unruly golden tresses. I knew from the lingering look the man gave me before he stood up and walked away that he had approved of me. It was in the spark of his eyes and the lick of his lips before he set his face.

While I looked at the man I watched his eyes turn hard and his face set, I used my arms to brace myself. My chest and spine hurt from the transformation, but my arms were still muscled from years of living in the water. The swimming had made them strong and I was thankful I seemed to be able to support my body weight and not lay completely prone on the cold floor.

The man spoke to the men who had carried me but it was in a quiet voice and I was unable to hear what was said. I was struggling with the fog in my brain, it seemed to be numbing my senses. I was quickly realising that pain was exhausting, my muscles felt sapped of energy, even holding my head up to look at someone was an effort.

The man, who seemed to be important, looked me up and down a final time and obviously made his decision as he nodded and I was helped onto my feet. I didn't know if I was to be thrown from the castle on legs that still wouldn't support my weight, whether I was deemed useless and beyond help and was to become an outcast. And I realised I was too exhausted to care what was happening to me and where I was being lead. All I hoped was that the pain would stop and if death was to be the outcome then I hoped it would be quick.

All the pain I had experienced from taking the potion had drained all of my energy, and in those early moments in the open air the pain also drained my emotions. My soul, the part of me that usually was bright and loved life was broken, the potion and pain stealing away my rational thoughts as well as my voice.

As it was I wasn't thrown out from the castle, instead I was taken to a room lined with many beds, some occupied, but I didn't really notice as the pain continued to eat away at me. I barely had a chance to feel relieved because when I was helped to lay down I quickly sank into an exhausted sleep. One plagued with visions of sea harpy's and their twisted laughter and the pain on my father's face when I didn't return home that night.

* * *

When I woke there was a dim light coming in through the window, it was dusk outside and the pain wracking my body had diminished. I must have been deeply asleep, or even passed out because someone had been able to dress me in a white linen smock so I was no longer naked and they had smothered my legs in an ointment so they were no longer the pink and tender colour from before. They had given me water as there was a half empty glass on a bedside table and my lips weren't as dry and cracked as before. My head didn't throb but my throat was still dry and as I reached up I was able to move my arms stiffly, the movement painful but not like it had been when I was lying prone on the sand earlier in the day. Slowly I was adapting to my new shape and new body and when the cool water hit the back of my parched throat I would have sighed out loud in pleasure if I had the ability, able to quench my thirst and help myself for the first time that day. A soft smile graced my features at the simple pleasure and I sunk back down into a soft pillow, so much better than the rough sand.

I tried to move my legs and they were still dead to me, but I had upper body movement. I was stiff and my chest hurt, breathing was an ordeal but I was able to do it without fear of passing out, pulling in air into my lungs was becoming easier and easier and the pressure it had caused on my spine and my back was less, meaning my head still hurt but wasn't stabbing like it had before.

A young girl came round to refill the glass of water and to give me some liquid nourishment, soup she told me at my confused face and squinted look at the bowl it was served in. She tried valiantly to ask me questions, my name and age, how I felt, but all I could do was shake my head and look away from her kind eyes when the pitying looks became too much to bear.

When an older man dressed in a crisp white shirt came and asked questions he quickly understood that I was perceptive and aware, I just had no ability to communicate back to him verbally. By head shaking and nodding I was able to get him to realise my legs were the problem and he gently took them in his hands and rubbed the skin delicately. As he applied more pressure and I indicated I could feel that he seemed pleased, nodding to himself that I had feeling, I just had no strength in the limbs. He grasped the limbs and bent them and it was hugely painful to me but I allowed it as he manipulated and moved them to check I had full mobility and they were functioning properly. It seemed the limbs did move as expected, which filled me with relief that the transformation had worked successfully and that I could hope I would be able to use them once I built up the muscles and learned to walk and co-ordinate the movement. I was beginning to realise this wasn't going to be easy. I didn't know how to walk, how to co-ordinate my new limbs, when I had been carried earlier I realised there was balance involved in holding yourself upright and I had no idea how to hold my frame and that the concept of standing, let alone walking was completely alien to me.

I couldn't ask any questions about it but I was able to push away my fear, the people I had met so far had been friendly and helpful and I hoped they would guide me, helping me to learn about my new legs. And when he smiled reassuringly and said goodbye, stating he would come back in the morning and a good night's sleep would aid me, he moved on to treat another person in the next bed I returned the smile. This had been the hardest day of my life but I had survived and was in a place getting help. I felt confidence start to curl inside me, I was prepared to work hard and master walking, and soon I would know more about the castle and not just the four walls of this room.


	4. Getting on with Life

Sorry for the long delay, life seems to keep getting in the way.

Thanks for keeping the faith.

Enjoy the next chapter, I promise we will see Regina soon

* * *

A slave, a servant. There was very little difference in the title or the duties, but it was now my title. My choices had been explained to me as I lay in my bed, almost full functioning, having control over my limbs but only after 4 long and painful weeks. Weeks filled with embarrassment when I fell on the floor and had to be continually helped back onto my feet. Having to be toilet trained and learning the new sensations that overtook my body and the messes I had made the first few days, laying in my own excrement, in pain and scared at the foreign nature of my body expelling waste from new orifices.

I had been clothed and fed and well treated as they provided bathing facilities, a bed to sleep in that wasn't the cold and hard floor and creams and ointments for my aches and pains. I knew the feeling of gratitude and was glad that I had been found and taken care of. I shuddered to think what might have happened if I had been left on the beach for days, the chill of the first night might have killed me, leaving behind a frozen corpse. Perhaps the water might have reclaimed my broken body, and maybe there would have been some irony there.

But I hadn't been left, I hadn't been found by unkind people, I had been brought to the castle where I became used to the schedule they kept, waking us at sun up and feeding us toasted bread. The day would be spent helping me gain control of my limbs, gaining strength. By the end of the day I was hungry for the vegetable or chicken soup they would feed us, laying back down in the bed and flexing my tired and sore legs, but often continuing to bend and move them in the exercises I had learned during the day. I could see the difference in my legs, the muscles were more defined, when I clenched the calf muscle bunched and became hard to the touch, I had learned to wiggle my toes, not very useful but it had fascinated me for quite some time. I would let sleep take me, often exhausted and not remembering much after eating, but if I awoke someone had always pulled a blanket over me to shelter my body from the cold.

I was learning to sign and communicate better with the nurses and doctors and the serving girls would always chat openly, greeting me with a smile even when I could hardly lift my head some mornings through the pain filled fog. A few of the other women in the dorm with me would nod at me and try as best they could to hold brief conversations. The stilted and sometimes awkward attempts to speak with me helped in a strange way, they reminded me in the first days and weeks when the pain was extreme and I was continually unsuccessful in everything I attempted to do with my lower body, that I wasn't completely alone and there were people to help and support me. It gave me some hope, some thin thread of determination to cling to when the light faded from the sky and I buried my face into the pillow and cried. I would feel the bed dip as someone sat next to me and ran soothing hands with a gentle touch up my back and rub circles, helping still the sobs and allowing me to focus on something other than the pain. It meant I could regulate my shuddering breathing so I could sink into the welcome darkness of sleep, finding some peace and rest away from the seemingly endless pain. In those moments words weren't needed.

And now finally, after the pain became less each day, I could now walk myself to the bathroom in the middle of the night when I felt the urge to urinate and the cold stone on my bare feet no longer made me draw air into my lungs in a hiss, I relished the feeling and the control I was able to have over my now not useless limbs. The cold was biting, but helped me remember I was alive and that I was finally healing and able to get on with my life above the water's surface. I could begin living and making the most of the deal I had struck.

So this was my choice, leave the castle and fend for myself, or sign up for 3 years of service to the crown and castle and be protected, cared for. I had already been at their mercy and they had cared for me in the hospital dorm, they had cleaned me, helped me to walk, given me food and drink and they didn't have to do any of that. So I signed the next 3 years of my life away, knowing it was better to be in the castle than outside. I had witnessed the storms and the destruction of them from the water and then from my bed, seeing the water lash against the glass panes, thunder rumbling low and menacing and the wind screaming as it failed to gain entry through the rough stone walls.

I had loved the water, grown my whole life in it, but the cold and furious beating of it as rain, that would cause a chill to my new skin would no longer soothe me in my new life. Ultimately I knew the stone walls offered the best protection and the best way forward for me in the situation I had managed to get myself into.

Laying prone on the beach in those few hours before I was found I had felt the heat of the sun and knew its power if you had no shelter and no water. Nature was a killer, and the humans dwelt in packs to support one another. As an outsider I had no pack, no one protecting or looking out for me, but here, I would be safe. And it gave me time to think about my plan, how I would fulfil my part of the sea witch's bargain.

* * *

My first day in service was horrific, I was dressed in a new cotton blouse, a knee length skirt and my leather flat shoes the doctor had given me several weeks ago as I first started to learn to walk unaided. They were now comfortable, worn to the shape of my feet, but I had suffered with blisters and they had rubbed terribly during the first few days until my skin had hardened a little and the leather had given, stopped being quite so rigid and pressing so firmly against my toes.

I had been escorted, leaving the hospital dorm after breakfast and been lead to the kitchens. The environment was hot, steam rose from pots and pans and the place was a hive of energy, people moving quickly, shouting at each other, a cacophony of noise.

The smells assaulted my senses, some pleasant making my mouth water, but as we passed through the kitchen to the dimly lit rooms at the back the smells became more pungent and foul, making me feel nauseous. I was quickly shown to a tiled room with a large sink and draining area where I realised I would be spending my day solitarily. There was a large container where the waste food was placed, plates were scraped off and then the dishes were given to me to wash. I was shown where to boil the water and how to refill the sink, where the soap flakes were to add to the warm water so the grease and dried food came away from the crockery more easily and then I was left to my day of scrubbing.

The smell from the waste container was vile, but I soon became accustomed to it and failed to notice it anymore. The congealing contents from the plates did make my stomach flip a few times, chewed up food, pieces of bone and gristle and the texture of it when my hands slipped into some of it, soft and slimy meant I turned my head away often and closed my eyes to stop the bile rising to refrain from being sick.

I spent most of my day standing before the sink, the heat of the water initially pleasant before it cooled and my skin began to be aggravated by the detergent, the soap flakes made my hands red and sensitive. I was bored from scrubbing the dirty dishes and kitchen utensils with no respite, every time I cleared a pile more were brought to me from the busy kitchen, and word had obviously been spread I couldn't speak as no-one tried to talk to me. It felt lonely, knowing behind the wall at my back there were many people all shouting at each other, and yet I was left in silence, trying to not get in the way, to do my best job and ignoring the ache in my legs that were tired after only an hour.

By the time I was released from the wash room my whole body hurt, my legs trebled with the steps I took and it was with great difficulty and only by clenching my jaw and being determined that I didn't fall to my knees and crawl after the escort. He noticed the clench of my jaw and the pain obviously reflected in my eyes as he told me with some warmth and sympathy, "You are going to the bathing chamber, it isn't far now."

I nodded dumbly, not sure what was going to happen, but knowing he was trying to re-assure me.

I still don't know how I managed to make it to the room he led me to. As we entered the room I nearly stumbled, but I had spent time building up my stomach muscles and balance in the hospital and was able to right myself before the embarrassment of hitting the floor, however the pain it caused jarred through my whole body and I felt tears prick at my eyes. I just hoped the day was over, the sun was low in the sky, I hoped that I would soon be allowed to sleep as my head was swimming, my stomach was empty and my muscles were screaming in agony from the physical labour I had done today.

I lifted my tired head and looked round the room I had been taken to. It was grand bathing chamber, there were many baths, all with girls beside them, pampering the individuals being washed.

A girl walked forward and grasped my elbow, pulling me gently along with her to the side of the nearest empty bath. She helped me undress, feeling the shake that started in my hands but travelled through my totally exhausted body. It may have been fear at exposing my body, but I didn't think so, it was purely the last of my energy leaking away, I was just so tired. Anyway had already been seen naked by so many people, the men on the beach, doctors and nurses, and I had been humiliated over and over when in the hospital that I found I was numb to being seen vulnerable and naked. Being undressed by a stranger was becoming normal to me, exposing myself easier every time it happened. She held onto me and assisted me until I was submerged in a warm bath to which oil with a pleasant scent was added.

My body reacted to the soothing heat, the oil calming my breathing and relaxing my tired limbs. Tentatively, with great care the young woman wetted my hair and began to wash my body with a cloth. Her hands and the water across my back felt wonderful, as she rubbed at my shoulders and the tension in my neck slowly ebbed until I hung my head and allowed a few tears to fall into the water.

The girl just continued to rub my arms with the washcloth, her movements tender. She washed all over my body, even my breasts and I was too tired to worry about being naked under her hands. I turned to look at her and saw she was concentrating on her task, she was beautiful with long flowing brunette hair. She finished washing me and I did feel much better as she helped me stand and then took most of my weight as I stepped out of the bath and onto the floor. She didn't complain, just gave me a winning smile, bright and supportive. As she wrapped a towel around me she tried to talk to me, "What is your name?" she whispered into my ear, her breath tickling. I felt her hot breath travel through the air and hit my neck, my face. It was the first time anyone had been that close to me, the doctor's had touched, but not with the kindness this woman showed me. Even the women who had soothed me to sleep had only rubbed my back. It was a strange realisation to me, my old life, my life under the ocean was so different. The water would dampen all sensation, the air in this land seemed to amplify it. The tone of her voice and her hands softly holding mine spoke of her sympathy, her consideration and I found myself struggling to hold back tears again.

"Emma" I wanted to scream out, but instead I had to stand there, frustrated and with tear filled eyes as she smiled so sweetly at me and brushed a soft hand down my cheek. "I'm Ruby." she pulled me into an embrace and I felt the heat from her soft body against mine, her heartbeat strong and sure. It was so foreign to me, people under the water being cold and never this intimate. She helped to pat me dry and then helped me into a clean skirt and blouse. I was unfamiliar with the fastenings and glad for her help in dressing me. I smiled at her as I left the room, her words and comfort helped me to stand, my legs still ached, I was hungry and tired, but her compassion filled me and helped me be strong enough to keep going.

Dinner was a blur and all I can remember thinking was that some other poor girl would have to wash the plates and cutlery as we were sat at long benches in the hall and bowls were placed before us. After that we were walked to the bed chambers. I fell into the bed I was directed to, it was a shared room with several other girls, but even their staring looks and glances at me couldn't stop sleep from taking me, I pulled the blanket over me and didn't stir again that night.


	5. An Unexpected Helping Hand

So I left this hanging around for ages, with bits and pieces written. Sorry about that, wanted to complete some other SwanQueen stuff, needless to say that hasn't exactly worked out either as ITS is still not finished.

All I can say is this called to me, and I felt ready to pick back up on it. Sorry for such a long delay, hope can get a few chapters posted in the next few weeks and move the story along.

Struggling with first person POV and might have to slip in and out of it in later chapters to get what I want across. Hope that doens't upse tthe flow too much, but for now please enjoy Chapter 5.

Thanks to the followers and faithful, your patience and reviews are always appreciated.

* * *

It was morning and I felt like I hadn't slept. I cracked open an eyelid and the bright sunlight hit me, peaking through a gap in the heavy fabric of the drape. I was laying fully clothed on my mattress where I could feel every part of my body throbbing dully, and moving only antagonised this into a sharp and more defined sensation. But there was no choice, I had to get up, eat quickly and report to the kitchen.

It had been made clear at my dismissal yesterday I was expected to return come sun up. The thought did little to reassure me then and it filled me with dread now. If I felt like this before I started to stand all day in that pungent room, how would I ever cope after hours on my feet?

The pain was something I was coming to understand, but it didn't make it any easier to bear. My body hadn't been made for the land, every moment spent stood upright was against my natural posture. My legs hurt slightly less than my back and arms, because they had already had weeks of strain and had become used to bearing me. They were still unused to the long days bearing my full weight, but the rest of my body had never had to bend or exert itself and use the muscles now expected of it. So while my legs hurt, it was mild in comparison to my biceps and back that were burning, combusting torturously with every flex.

My arms had carried piles of plates, the muscles that had been strong from swimming and pulling me through the water had softened in my four weeks in the hospital. The movement I had continually repeated yesterday, lifting crockery, transporting buckets of water and rubbish, was foreign and used different parts of my arms to the swimming. It meant my arms were now stiff, and they screamed at me when I moved them to push aside the blanket and uncover my body.

Gingerly I placed my feet on the flagstone floor and closed my eyes. Using my arms and legs in tandem to push myself into a standing position the pain flashed behind my closed eyes and I bit hard on my lip. It wouldn't have mattered if I had cried out, no-one would have heard it, but it was a human habit I suppose to suffer in silence and muffle pained moans. I was no exception, holding back a scream behind my teeth, letting it come out as a hiss of air instead.

Once in a standing position I somehow found the ability to move. I did a quick study of myself and surroundings, seeing a wash basin I splashed cool water against my sticky eyes, each bend and movement feeling like fire in my muscles. I chanced a look down at my clothes which were creased and I made a mental note to myself not to sleep in them again. At least they were clean on the previous night but looking at the other girls milling in the bedchamber I felt self-conscious. They had braided or brushed hair and they clearly hadn't slept in their clothes. It was then I felt a brush thrust into my hand as the other girls started to file out. I quickly smiled at the unexpected generosity and made quick work of taming my blonde mane. Dropping the brush on my bed I left the room as well, my legs screaming at me to stop walking and sink back into the bed.

I had to ignore the voice, so blinked my eyes until they cleared of tears and lifted my head. I got out of the doorway, then carried on down the corridor toward breakfast. With each step I thought I would fall and I am uncertain even now how I found the determination to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I think it took lots of clenching my jaw, closing my eyes against tears and deep breaths, focussing on anything than my own body that felt like it was trying to self-destruct.

I took notice of everything I could, using it as a distraction. The cold air in the corridors, the rough stone they were carved from. The decorations hanging, tapestries and painted art works, anything that meant I could ignore the steady throb of my feet as they carried me around the castle.

This was a mental battle as much as it was a physical one. I knew that, and I could be strong and stubborn. It was what had ultimately caused me to turn away from my father and the underwater kingdom. I could survive, I had made this decision and refused to give up. I was weary but had also quickly accepted I had no choice. I had agreed to this life, the sooner I adapted and embraced it the better. I could still think positively, that this wasn't a bad decision, I was just in a bad place. Eventually the pain would ease and there should still be a good outcome, I needed to push past the unpleasant present and focus on a greater goal, the future.

And with each new day it became slightly easier, I developed coping mechanisms for the pain and made sure I always bathed to relax by body after my time in the kitchen. I ate well to keep my strength up and didn't allow the whispering in the shared room to keep me awake. I found if I slept well that sleep was a universal cure for my body and soul, both of which were being tested and tortured during the long days.

I found communal sleeping odd at first but knew I was safe with the women in the room. They had shared their brushes and combs for my long blonde hair when I arrived, supplied me loose fitting cotton sleepwear after that first night as I had no idea where clothes were kept and did their best to be welcoming.

They were all employed for various uses in the castle. Some were cleaners, some cooked and I recognised them as the ones who tended to pass the pots and pans to me rather than throw into the sink somewhat carelessly at me during the working day. Some worked in the gardens, and their skin was more golden and brown than the others. I looked at my pale skin and felt self-conscious but knew there was little I could do, I wasn't used to the sun and was so pale any exposure would likely cause redness and blisters and more importantly, more pain. I would have to stay pale.

The women tried to communicate and I had learned to communicate for simple things with gestures and facial expressions. I smiled and nodded at my bed mates when entering and leaving the room, often listening discretely to their conversations while I readied myself for sleep. I kept my small area of the room clean and tidy, trying to fit in where without a voice it was increasingly difficult.

It was an adjustment period, I had never known that level of pain or had been forced into such a structured way of living. My time was rarely my own but within that I found something soothing. I didn't have to think too much, I knew what was expected of me and also what to expect. I slipped into the routine, where I often found myself standing silent by a cooling sink of water, alone but trying not to think of that. I focused on making it through each day, thinking of the bath and dinner. During the communal activities there would be chatter and I would feel a part of life again as people bustled around me and were more welcoming without the burden of work.

Ruby always greeted me with a warm smile and gentle touch on my arm, she would talk about her day and her Granny and I began to hope she would be the bather on duty even if she didn't bathe me personally. She would always catch my eye and make me feel part of the castle community with just her soft look and easy smile. I still felt like and outsider, but there were people trying to ease that discomfort and to them I was grateful.

And for a few weeks my life narrowed to getting up, breakfast, going to the kitchen and scrubbing until I was finally released from my working day to be bathed, eating again and then falling exhaustedly into bed.

* * *

It was in the kitchen I struggled most, because it was so busy there was very little chance for casual conversation. People shouted commands and confirming responses, there was no part I could witness or involve myself in. I was separated by a solid wall from the stoves and fires of the main room and it seemed very much that as I was out of sight I was also out of their thoughts

I was mostly ignored, I am sure many of the girls and other serving wenches didn't speak to me because they thought I was an idiot. That because I was mute and didn't speak I also failed to understand. They possibly assumed I was deaf and dumb and didn't look any further, but whatever reason very few people interacted with me and my existence in those first few weeks was unbearably lonely and harder than I had ever imagined.

I had always been independent, I enjoyed my own company and often shunned the merfolk and their forms of contact with each other. But it had always been through choice that I shied away from interaction. Having that choice taken away bothered me than I ever realised it would.

I missed the ease of speaking, if I came from behind someone they were often surprised by my presence, turning with a harsh comment or anger in their eyes to mask their surprise. Sometimes they would follow through and snap at me, other times the angry look would fade to pity and that was as bad as the hurtful comments. I wish I could call out, engage with people, but I was stuck with my own thoughts and no way to vocalise them. Even the girls in the bedchamber were still friendly but their smiles were pitying after I failed to respond to their morning greetings with anything other than a wave and a smile.

During those hard first days, where I was hot, sweaty and ignored I was tempted on more than one occasion to leave the castle. To walk to the water's edge and continue walking, submerging myself until my lungs filled with water and my body stopped hurting as it gave up the fragile hold I had on life. I very nearly laughed, life wasn't what I had. I had naively expected the sun to beat on my skin and warm me, to easily find a companion and have them laugh with me, to run and share smiles. That would be life, a worthwhile compromise to what I had given up.

What I had here was worse than my watery prison. At least there I had people I could talk with, a father who loved me and tried to protect and care for me. All I felt now was the biting sting of loneliness, rejected by some of the others because I was different and unable to fully integrate with the rest because I could not respond to them. It wasn't what I thought life was. This was torture, slow, painful and had it continued like that then I am ashamed to say I do not know what would have happened.

* * *

It had been many days, many days of plate washing, so much so that my skin had built a tolerance to the harsh abrasive nature of the dish soap. My hands no longer stung, or got as red and itchy or had dry and flaky patches. I knew where the dustpan and brush lived, the mop and bucket and various scrubbing cloths. I spent my days taking the food waste out to the back of the castle, it going into a big container that never seemed to fill up. I felt pity for the poor person who emptied it but didn't pay it any more thought as I heard more grease streaked pans being brought from the kitchen rattling against the metal of the sink.

It had actually got to the point where I could clear the piles of dishes, scrub the cutlery and have a few moments rest before the next piles of dirty crockery arrived. I had managed to multitask and manage my time, the weeks of practice honing my skills. And while washing plates was probably one of the most menial and lowly tasks in the castle, I felt a stirring of pride that I was proficient at it. There had been a time when I first saw that small room and the work expected of me that I had wanted to turn around and flee back to the water. Now I was able to find time to peek into the kitchen and slyly observe, leaning against the doorway nonchalantly. Once or twice I had even been called over to take the greasy baking trays from the kitchen, rather than have them slung at me by some hot and bothered kitchen hand.

One day when I had a few moments spare after taking out the food scraps I was enjoying the fresh air and stretching my aches and pains out in the warmth of the sun. Stood leaning against the cool stone wall of the castle I watched the pigs being released into their pen and feed. They amazed me, seeing them from a distance I expected they would be slow as they were quite solidly built and I assumed not very clever but they immediately walked to the feeding trough with a speed I found fascinating. Some of them stopped to get petted by the pig keeper and you could see the joy as they seemed to smile underneath their snouty noses as he scratched behind their ears. They knew exactly where the food was and I quickly realised they were intelligent.

However intelligent they might be, it did still turn my stomach when I realised the foul smelling scraps I believed to be waste had been mixed with some other type of food stuff and that was what was being poured into the troughs. Despite not being free the animals were happy and content and rolled in the mud and made the best of their existence in their pen. I watched as the pigs happily devoured everything, seeing for the first time how interconnected life in the castle was.

It was a moment of clarity for me. I had initially allowed my pain and then the distraction of coping with my job and life changes to keep me blind to the bigger picture. The pigs were caged, but were not allowing that to hamper their existence. I need not been so confined, I had to work as directed, but I had not even explored beyond the rooms I had to exist in.

And more so I realised that life at the castle was diverse, existing far beyond the kitchen, bed chambers, bathing rooms and dining hall. I looked up and saw the fields and buildings stretching for miles and it amazed me, and made me think that I needed to be more aware of life around me. I had wasted many days that I didn't have wallowing, trying to find my place in this new world, but all I had done was shut it out, my mind unready or unwilling to deal with the magnitude of change I had forced on it by leaving the only home I had known.

I needed to embrace this new world, to reach out and interact. I needed to be more aware of my surroundings and not allow myself to become distracted. I knew the girls in my bedchamber cooked, cleaned, tended the garden, but the castle was vast. There must be so much more going on and I decided then I should investigate what other jobs humans did here.

Other thoughts quickly followed, if I had allowed myself to become so isolated and accepted the routine so easily then what else had I missed? Because it seemed we all played a part and maybe I could change the part I played. No-one else was going to help me fulfil my bargain with the Sea Witch, I needed to make that change myself. And if I failed and continued to be mute my whole life, then I needed to make it a good life. If I watched and showed an interest maybe I wouldn't be stuck washing dishes forever. I smiled, feeling a new warmth filling me that had nothing to do with the sun before hurrying back to wash the next load of plates and cooking utensils.

I didn't know it then, but do now, that in my relaxed pose I was being observed. Beautiful brown eyes watched me from beneath the shade of a tree at the edge of the field. My long blonde hair glowed as did my sun warmed skin, catching the lingering gaze and causing a smirk to fall onto darker, sun brushed and beautiful features. My watcher liked what she saw and made a note to herself to try and cross paths a little closer next time.

Oblivious to the interest I had piqued I was busy making a promise to myself that I would engage more. Unfortunately without being able to speak this meant most of my efforts were going to be contained to watching carefully what took place around me and walking the castle corridors and gardens where I had unfettered access in the early mornings or evenings. But I decided to work on this plan of action, I had nothing to lose.

I learned quite early into my explorations that there were security guards and locked doors in some areas, clearly indicating access was restricted, but I began to see more life, more people. The guards would nod at me as my face became familiar to them, the animals in their pens welcomed me with muzzles or snouts for petting. In the stables I saw the size and athleticism of the horses. It didn't matter to them that I couldn't speak, they were more than content with being stroked by my hand, if only the inhabitants of the castle were so easily placated.

Life outside did seem just a little more relaxed, more simple. The gardeners, much like the stable hands didn't seem to fear my mutism and always smiled warmly. I felt slightly less lonely as the older gentlemen would speak to me about the types of flowers being planted or the next harvesting cycles. They took pride in their work and were enthusiastic, despite my silence. I paid attention, the fruit trees were hanging low with their burdens, so nearly ripe. I knew I could expect apples to be delivered in the kitchen next week for cooking into desserts, and smiled, I had taken quite a liking to them with their sharp sweetness.

* * *

It had been my choice to explore but sometimes it isn't the decisions you make for yourself that change your life. Sometimes you just have to be lucky, in the right place, at the right time. It appears there is sometimes a greater force at work, pulling us through life and placing us where we need to be. At the time it didn't seem like luck, and I would never have chosen the circumstances given the choice but I can see with hindsight the benefits were far reaching and life changing.

My explorations would not have allowed me to bond and become closer to someone that ultimately set me on a better path, so even though the circumstance was sparked by my failure and I would never have wished for it, the outcome more than made up for the embarrassment and short term pain I endured.

This is how I formed my first real bond of friendship within the castle, and it was as unexpected and strange to me, despite being so very welcome.

I left my now clean but still dingy room to use the toilet and as had become habit, I had learned to tread softly and draw very little attention to myself. I went to slip silently into my position in the back room. On my way through I picked up a pile of dirty dishes that had been left for me.

They were stacked haphazardly at the back of the kitchen. I bent slightly and got them into my hands and set off towards my doorway, knowingly cutting myself off once again from life. As the dishes held my main focus I must have slipped slightly in some puddled water that I hadn't seen on the floor. Then suddenly I wasn't sliding anymore, my momentum shifted, unable to stabilise myself I found I was falling. Suddenly I was moving toward the hard surface of the floor face first.

The clatter and smashing of the plates suddenly made me the sole focus of attention in the room. I had for the most part been ignored in the kitchen, treated like I didn't exist. Now I was being stared at by every single eye in the kitchen, including the Head Cook.

I was shocked from the jolt of slamming into the stone and unyielding floor. It was also cold and I felt the water I had slipped on seep into my blouse but I felt unable to move, partly in shock and mostly because all of me hurt from the impact. I had been jarred, the impact travelling up my knees and then up my back. My hands had been scraped and cut open both by the floor and by bits of broken crockery and yet instinctively I knew I had to get up to salvage the unbroken china and clear away the broken dishes.

Gingerly I got onto my hands and knees and then used the edge of a table to pull me up. There was muttering and clearly the other girls were whispering about me. No-one came to help and I felt how different I was stab into me. If I could talk, if I had cried out, maybe someone would care enough to offer aid. As it was this incident only heightened my feeling of isolation. They didn't care about me, I was just the lowly serving girl who washed the plates. I had been deluded thinking I could learn castle life and find some acceptance. I was nothing and was going to be treated like that all the while I couldn't tell them any differently. I either stayed and allowed it, or broke my contract and ran away.

I turned my back to the behaviour in the kitchen. The other women had stopped short of pointing and laughing but the whole situation still made me sad, angry and uncomfortable and I ducked my head and walked as best I could into my room to take a few steadying breaths before collecting the dustpan and going to clean up the mess I had made. I didn't look up, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. I felt their eyes still on me, watching and judging. I was beginning to hate them and found I hated myself almost as much.

I had done this, I made this choice. I had been arrogant and now was paying for it. Two cycles of the moon had pasted and I was no nearer forming any kind of friendship, let alone bonds for a marriage. I scrapped the brush over the floor with hard and aggressive strokes, but they did little to ease my frustration.

At the time I didn't realise but my discomfort was noticed by the Head of Kitchen, who had stood studying me for a long period before glaring at the girls who immediately stopped their whispering and dropped their eyes to the counter top and went back to work.

As I went back to my room she left her task and strode confidently and purposefully across the kitchen.

Upon entering my dank little hole she found me with a bowed head. I was leaning my weight on the edge of the sink and breathing heavily and unevenly as I struggled with the pain, I was bleeding freely from my hands and knew I couldn't put them in the water to wash up. I didn't know what to do.

I was silently shaking with unshed, repressed tears, both from pain and from the embarrassment. I felt a presence and knew she had walked in, turning to see her stood firmly in the dim light. She had never come into this space, never spoken directly to me. I tensed expecting a verbal lashing for breaking the expensive plates, fear must have been clear in my eyes.

She surprised me by gently raising her arm, placing her hand on my arm and squeezing with a reassuring pressure. She didn't speak, at least not with a raised voice to berate me. Instead she gave me support and her silence was comforting, unlike the constant loneliness I always seemed to find in my silent existence.

She took my hands and turned them over seeing the blood oozing from the palms and her gentle touch and behaviour melted any façade I had managed to hold together from the last few weeks. I cracked and suddenly the hot tears I had been trying to hide leaked silently from my eyes. My misery, uncertainty about my choice and deal with the Sea Witch and silence and loneliness I found myself surrounded by more and more caused a silent sob to come from the back of my throat. And then the sting as tears were cascading down my face for her to witness.

And she let me cry, she didn't judge, there was understanding in her gaze, a kindness that wasn't pity in her eyes. She had pulled me to her and was rubbing soothing circles on my back, her touch conveying hope and faith. She soothed me, rocking gently and making whispered comments about "everything working out" and "it being darkest before the dawn". Her words didn't matter, although the tone of them did resonate deep within me and calm me. It was her actions, and they weren't shunning me.

Once I had calmed she arranged cover for my work so I could get my hands tended to. Ointments for the torn skin and coverings to stem the bleeding. And a promise to visit her after her work had finished for the day, to seek her out so we could talk a little.

She told me, "I know how difficult it is to be different and how hard you have to work to fit in. Let me help you?"

And I had shyly nodded.


End file.
